Story of a fox
by Blake Foxx
Summary: This is a fan-fiction I've been working on about my fan character self named "Blake." and well I'm trying to add some depth to his background, and I've ended up writting a small story about him. It's not done, only at well chapter 9 which isn't much.
1. Chapter 1

chapter1

He wasn't alone, or at least not in his mind. The streets,deserted, void of even the slightest escence of life, not even the faint flickerings on a street lamp to cast the smallest bit of hope on the street. He didn't notice this, however, his body was the only remnant of him within that street, his mind had wandered far off, back the dreams, back to the nightmares...back to the boy.

He was perplexed as to why, but he kept having fantisies, daydreams, even hallucinations about this boy in his mind. the one he saw day after day, haunting him, sewing himself deep within the very fabric of his being, coming to him as both an escence of life and hope and as a tormentor ripping apart even his will to live. The boy watches from the distance, his eyes locked up him, drawing him in from the distance, as he gets closer the boy attacks him, he tries to struggle, but everytime he's overpowered, and before he can find out how it's meant to end, he awakens.

He snapped out of his head, and looked about him. The wind blew his soft, gentle crimson fur, and made him shiver.  
His tail swished gently flowing in rhythmic harmony with the breeze that caused him to feel so frigid. His deep green eyes pierced on through the darkness looking for the path that he might take. He hated the night, and he hated being alone standing there abandoned in the night sky; small, weak, and frightened. Every minute of his life felt like this,  
so desolate, so lonely...he had become at this point insignificant even to himself.

He walked down the empty street, his right hand gently rubbing his left, a nervous habit that came from his natural ways of withdrawing himself from the people around him. He was afraid to be around others, as they have always been horrible to him, and he felt that none of them even cared about him. For this, he stayed out of there way as best he could.

He made his way down the abandoned street, and found a nice secluded hotel. He walked in, to he left a group of three older gentleman were coversing over drinks, they seemed too drunk to even notice him. To his right was a woman sitting alone, she was reading a book minding her own, a man was watching her from a distance, seemingly trying to rack up the courage to make a move. One fellow, an older looking man was watching. He seemed interested in something.

The man watching muttered silently to himself, " What's that fox boy doing here?" he seemed intent on figured out this puzzling mystery. He ran his hands across his chin, thinking to himself in silence. The fox boy caught sight of the man, but paid him little heed, instead he walked up to the desk and signed himself in. He gave up the last of his cash.

The young lady at the desk handed him his room key, and directed him to where he should be, then picked up a magazine, and began reading. The fox looked down at the paper where all the guests signed in " Richard, Frank, Harold, and Blake" were the names across the list, the last being his. Blake took his key, and rushed to his room, hopping to get some sleep, and to not be bothered. The man who had been watching him, followed close behind. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

" Get up you lazy broad!" Someone called out. A young woman, just barely out of her teens, hopped groggily to her feet and drug herself across the carpet, and straight to the rest room. She looked at herself in the mirror, her frizzy dirty blonde uncombed hair seemed to jump out at her, she wasted no time tamming it. She wasn't big on time, so she tended to just get her hair in it's place and comb in back, nothing fancy, just enough.

Her eyes were baggy and red, the exhaustion she faced was apparent. Despite this, her deep blue eyes managed to make up for what her eyes were lacking in beauty. Her eyes were special, they could completely take you in, and make you unable to notice or even care about anything else. Her face was a little pale, but she did occasionaly find her way to the light. Her cheeks had a light blush to them.

" Are you up yet, dammit!?" the voice yelled back, seeming agitated.

" I'm up! I'm up!" She yelled back, her voice strong, bold, and demanding.

She ran out of the bathroom, and straight to the closet, fumbling trying to find a decent outfit. She wearily pulled out a business suite, but ultimately found it to be a bit too formal. She found a light blue dress, and that it was far too informal and lacking greatly in texture. She settled with a dark blue suit with a skirt bottom, that seemed to be professional, but also just alittle bit fun.

She wasn't sure why she had even tried so hard to find this outfit, as she had always felt, even back in her highschool years, that she was too ugly, and that no one cared about her. The truth being, however, a contradiction. She was a beautiful woman when she had the time to fix herself up. Somewhere within her she knew that it was true,  
and that's what pushed her to ultimately care so much for the clothing that she had worn.

She waited, wanting to avoid going downstair, in her eyes the floor below was as close to hell as one could get without dying, and she longed to get away and never return to so terrible a place, but she knew it would never happen. Her job was too demanding and she had nowhere else to go,she always felt like she had to be where she was, but she despised being there. She knew she would eventually have to go down and face her hell of a life. She sighed, and sat on the bed waiting, wishing she could just go back to sleep.

She got over herself, and ran downstairs. The voice yelling at her to awaken was sitting at a small wooden table, hovered over an empty plate, a look of frustration across his face. " woman, could you take anymore time? I'm starving over here, and your off dolling yourself up for people who don't even give a about you."

She sighed feeling, like always, dead inside. She tried to shrug off the things he said, but it never worked very well. She would just look into his horrid brown demeaning eyes, that lacked any luster or essence, and he would tear her apart at the soul, and destroy what esteem she had gathered for herself.

She walked off towards the fridge and pulled out some eggs. He ran his hands through his hair which was suprisingly similar to the Dad's on an old 50's tv show, " Leave it to Beaver."

" Hurry up, dammit woman!" he yelled again at her, and she worked her on his breakfast; bacon, eggs, and biscuits. He eat his meal greadily and eagerly. He rubbed his stomache in satisfaction, having become full.

" the only thing you're good for is your damn cooking" He said doing his best to rip her apart, enjoying her pain,  
and taking glee from her misery. 


End file.
